


Consider Yourself Warned About No. 11

by scribble55178



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Sherlock, Fights, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-25
Updated: 2011-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribble55178/pseuds/scribble55178
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt: “I have a sudden major yearning for Sherlock to KICK SOMEONE IN THE FREAKING FACE and remain utterly classy whilst doing so.”</p>
<p>Sherlock gets into a fight in a pub. John is not amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consider Yourself Warned About No. 11

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for a [prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/10038.html?thread=49684534#t49684534).
> 
> The title is derived from Watson’s list of Holmes’s limits and abilities: _11\. Is an expert singlestick player, boxer, and swordsman._
> 
> This was written before S2, so strangely enough the "pirate" reference regarding Sherlock is a complete coincidence.

 

 

“You know if that so-called detective friend of yours doesn’t shut his mouth he’s gonna be in for a world of hurt. You hear me, mate?”  
  
John took a sip of his pint before sitting it down and swiveling his bar stool around to look behind him. It appeared the conversation Sherlock was having with one of his old contacts, a somewhat shady character named Eddy, had taken a turn for the worse. Apparently the man had become increasingly wary of dealing with the law and no longer felt obliged to give up any secrets in the aid of justice. Per Sherlock’s instructions, John had been waiting at the bar so as not to spook the guy any further.  
  
Forty minutes later and John was getting harassed by Eddy’s pal, Ned, Sherlock was starting to lose the characteristic cool he normally maintained when questioning people, and Eddy, growing more combative by the second, was pacing around a billiards table, half his attention on the game of 9-ball he was playing against himself, the other half on telling Sherlock he needed to get the hell away from him because he was done talking. Sherlock’s queries were slowly devolving from calculated to contemptuous.  
  
Ned was watching them from the bar stool next to John. “I mean for a scrawny pretty boy he sure does like to mouth off doesn’t he?”  
  
John retrieved his drink from the bar behind him and casually took another sip, but watched Eddy’s movements like a hawk the entire time. It was becoming obvious that both Ned and Eddy were spoiling for a fight, and John thought it might be a good idea to discourage it. After all, he needed to be getting up for work in seven hours. No need for things to get complicated. “Scrawny, maybe. But he knows how to handle himself.”  
  
Ned laughed. “What, is he one of those blokes who thinks he can slag off anyone he pleases because he took a few karate lessons?”  
  
“Baritsu.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Not karate. Baritsu.”  
  
“Sounds made up.”  
  
John shrugged. “Go ahead and pick a fight with him and find out how made up it is.”  
  
Ned scoffed. “That fancy shit won’t do nothin’ when he winds up getting cracked over the head with a pool cue.”  
  
“Oh I wouldn’t let him get anywhere near a stick if I were you.”  
  
“Why?” Ned snorted. “Does he like to swing ‘em around and pretend he’s playing pirate?”  
  
“Pirates use swords, not sticks. Although I wouldn’t let him get his hands on a sword either. Not to mention a riding crop.”  
  
Ned just stared back at John like he was trying to decide if the conversation had just taken a weird turn.  
  
Sherlock suddenly spun on his heel and stalked back to the bar, leaving Eddy fuming behind him. “Come along, John. We’re quite done here.”  
  
Ned hopped up to go join Eddy, shooting a glare at Sherlock in the process.  
  
John slid off his bar stool and paid for his drink. “That seemed like it went well.”  
  
Sherlock frowned. “Yes. Just splendid.”  
  
“Ok now listen. I’ve got to head to the gents.” John tipped his head towards Ned and Eddy. “Those guys are looking for any chance to start something, so please just stay put until I get back.”  
  
Sherlock smirked. “I’ll be good.”  
  
\------  
  
John rushed back through the pub when he heard the sound of patrons scattering. Even though John had been gone for less than two minutes, when he returned he saw Eddy splayed across the pool table looking completely dazed, his forehead sporting a skinny red welt along with what to John looked like an honest-to-God shoe print.  
  
Ned wasn’t fairing much better, stumbling from one of the quick blows Sherlock had just delivered to his head with a thin wooden stick which the detective was wielding in his right hand. It took John a second to realize the stick was half of a pool cue that had been snapped in two. A second later Sherlock’s left hand curled into a tight fist and he dropped Ned to the floor with a vicious left hook.  
  
Sherlock tossed his makeshift weapon down and swiped his palms back and forth against each other quickly as if washing his hands of the entire fight. He then set about fastidiously straightening his jacket. He hadn't even broken a sweat. He caught John’s disapproving look. “What?! They started it!”  
  
John just shook his head and went to survey the damage.  
  
Ned’s groggy view of the ceiling was eclipsed by a face as John peered down at him and said, almost apologetically, “I forgot to warn you about the boxing.”

 

 

 


End file.
